"More Issues Than National Geographic" or "Let's Hear It for Yom Kippur!"

(I wrote this at the beach this weekend. Blame the Gulf. Or those yummy cosmopolitans...)

Seagulls fly overhead making music in the air. They sound like my children screaming. I hope none of them shits on my head.

This is rough. Not just because it's time to apologize for anything harmful I may have done during the past year.

Jesus. That's hard enough. And don't he know it. (wink wink - you betcha)

It's a rough time for other reasons and contemplating my life just adds to the sense of loneliness and despair. How else would you explain the fact that I actually enjoyed Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist?

The water circles around my toes. Sweet Christ, I'll kill someone if that's a bunion.

In preparation for Yom Kippur, I usually call or write to those I adore and apologize. Not this year.

Why? I could blame it on my long-distance plan. But it's probably because I'm not sorry.

If someone told me that I'd really hurt them, of course I'd apologize. I'm not a vindictive or cruel person. Although I often smell like one.

After careful consideration, though, and few hours of rehashing the past twelve months, I have come to the conclusion that I'm good. Haven't hurt a soul.

Correct me if I'm wrong. Please.

I annoy. I irritate. I confuse and trouble. I've written things that some folks can't handle. I have this nasty habit of telling the truth and that tends to piss people off. But I don't think I've actually harmed or hurt anyone.

If you're going to run away to the beach and you accidentally leave all your makeup at home, it helps to be with someone who says you look beautiful anyway.

For a half-second, seriously, like, in the time it takes to hate an Oasis song, I thought maybe I was sorry for being too trusting and open with my heart. But no. I can't pretend I'm sorry for that either.

How does one regret love? Silly talk.

So I'm going to stick with the whole "not sorry" thing.

Fresh salt sea air erases wrinkles and worries at the same time. But not as effectively as my makeup that I goddamn forgot.

On Yom Kippur, can I really atone for that which I don't regret? Can I atone if I'm not sorry?

Maybe I am sorry for certain happenings in the most general sense. Like I'm sorry I lose my patience sometimes with my children. I'm sorry I bought that Maroon 5 album. I'm sorry I cut a woman off in traffic. I didn't hold a door open for an elderly gentleman because I was rushing into Walgreens and couldn't be bothered. Astro Glide was on sale. I sometimes hate people more talented than me. Which is everyone.

I'm passive aggressive sometimes. That isn't nice. And it's been established that I'm no lady.

Here's the thing - I'm not sorry to anyone but myself. Because I should be a better person.

So that's what I'll atone for. And strive towards.

Damn. When I'm ready to buy a place of my own, I'm going to buy a condo on St. Pete Beach. Or Clearwater Beach. I can't hear anyone's snoring over the waves.

I must forgive those who have wronged me in order to be forgiven. It's only fair.

A broken heart is a mighty hard thing to forgive. The slights, sorrows, disappointments, and painful moments are never completely behind us. And how can you forgive someone who hasn't apologized?

If you get up early enough, you don't even see the sun.

How? Like anything else, you just do it.

I just do it.

With forgiveness in my heart and on my mind, I'll fast on Thursday and ask myself and the universe or God or whateveryouwannacallit to forgive me as well.

But I'm not asking anyone else. Not this year.

To heck with the cold water. I'm going in.

Fast easy, peeps.